ology part un

The head and the soul, two travelers stuck in the same vessel.  Inseparable and completely unintelligible to each other.  I picture them sitting in a fancy leather apportioned train car.  They sit opposite on drab couches.  Unable to converse. One of them has a language of sorts but no voice, and the other speaks but only in wispy dry leaf crackle, in the smooth pale skin high on the inside of his lover's thigh, the full moon's reflection on a calm midnight lake, or fresh new socks on cold feet.

These strangers often agree, although they never know it.  More frequently they are grievously offended by that which the other loves.  So much so, that in a panic or rage one of them will try to leap from the train only to be violently hauled back to relative safety by the other, for neither could bear to go on alone.  Blackbird and bread.  Sand and cloud.  Element and ungent.  Earth and embrace.  No couple  has ever loved or hated as well as these intimate strangers.

Is it so strange?  When they come to a book of religion how can they proceed?  If one is thoroughly pleased the other most certainly is bound like Prometheus on the Rock.

When they meet another it is not one but two more that they must meet.  All four grasping and struggling to walk together and know even the simple truth about the other.  When they are intimate who touches who, and where?

I have no answer for this.  The strangers inside my train rumble slowly on.  They sit across from each other in a finely built and comfortable private car.  They watch. They wonder.  They wait.